Its been 7 weeks since George Mason’s day and most days it feels like all of this happened yesterday. I can hardly believe that its already April. The pain and the hurt and the raw emotion of all of it are so vivid that it doesn’t seem real when I look at the calendar and realize its been 7 full weeks. I remember thinking that my pregnancy was never going to end; that 38 weeks to meet my son felt like an eternity and I just wanted to be done. I wanted to have my son here, in my arms, and be done with all of the unknown of his pregnancy. We knew he was sick but no one knew just how sick. When I went into labor I just wept because I was terrified of what the last 38 weeks of unknown had brought us to. I was terrified that our lives were going to take a drastic turn for the worst. I didn’t know that for a fact, but here I am 7 weeks later, living through that worst.
Yesterday was a not so good day and I was so happy to go to bed because I hoped it would mean waking up to a better day, a better mood, and less repentance over my attitude. I was wrong. Today has been full of many good things but it’s also been full of attitude from my toddler and too much frustration from her emotional mama. As I sat on the stairs listening to Audrey cry during our third attempt at a nap, the words to one of my favorite worship songs filled my head. I cried, along with Audrey, out of the exhaustion of fighting her toddler will, but also out of the comfort of God meeting me where I am. Right there, on those stairs, in my moment of mommy desperation, God met me.
Those words are extremely powerful and loaded with all kinds of craziness. Have I every really, honestly wanted God to take me to the place where my trust is without borders? Wherever that may be? That’s a huge thing… Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger.. what?! I remember when the weight of those words first hit me. Audrey Nole was only about 5 or 6 weeks old and I was in desperate need of a hot shower. She refused to sleep, so I put on some music, strapped her into the bouncer, and got in the shower. I was barely through the shampoo rinse when she started crying but that song came on and I prayed along. Then I realized what I was praying and stopped myself. Wherever you have called me, Jesus… that was a lot to ask. I didn’t like where He had called me at that moment and I don’t like where He’s called me in this moment either.
All the grief counseling in the world would probably tell me that’s ok. That its ok to have a bad day or even a string of bad days. That there is no timeline to grief and I have to just let it play out as it happens; as I experience each moment and each feeling or emotion. The problem with that is the “doer” in me. I want to “do” this away and fix it. I want to check the boxes of whatever needs to happen to get to a point where I don’t have bad days anymore. I feel silly even saying that out loud. I know that this isn’t going to be made better until eternity. That doesn’t make it any less painful right now, but it is comforting when I’m willing to take my pain to my Savior and rest in His presence.
Today I’m not doing a very good job of living out the words to that song. I’m pouty and sad. I’m grumpy and have little patience for Audrey. I’m really, really upset about where God has me right now. I’m also 100% sure that God’s character isn’t going to be shaped or influenced by my bad attitude today (or any day for that matter). Thank you, Jesus, for being you. For being constant and unchanging. For being unfailing in your love. Unfailing in loving me and meeting me on the stairs. Thank you, Jesus, for not turning your back on me when I’m having a bad day. Thank you, Jesus, for your life on this earth and what that means for me today, tomorrow, and everyday. And for what it means for my precious son. Thank you, Jesus, for your grace and for your mercies that are new every morning. Lord Jesus, today is not a good day but you are still perfect. Lead me out of my pout and into your presence.
For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “Surely I will bless you and multiply you.” And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise. For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek. -Hebrews 6:13-20